I drew my first breath in Nanjing’s gentle embrace of autumn. From that moment on, autumn became my favorite season in Nanjing. Every year when the first cold breeze arrives, I will stroll down Beijing East Road, just as I did countless times in my childhood, watching golden leaves from phoenix trees dance their way gracefully to the ground.
As the capital of China for ten dynasties, Nanjing plays a significant role in its 5,000-year history. Yet this ancient city wears its imperial legacy not as a burden but as a layer of identity. Here, Ming dynasty city walls cats shadow over gleaming skyscrapers, while centuries-old temples share streets with bars and café. Every corner of my hometown pulses with both epic tales of emperors and the vibrant rhythm of contemporary life. Besides its grand historical narrative, Nanjing’s streets and spaces are also interwoven with chapters of my own story, recording fragments of my life of growing up.
I was born in a family steeped in Buddhist traditions. My father is instrumental in crafting many of the world's colossal Buddhist statues, while my mother and grandmother's faith in Buddhism is unwavering. When I was little, every year when Chinese New Year was heading, my parents would clasp my small hands in theirs as we made our annual pilgrimage to Jiming Temple along Beijing East Road. As we offered our joss sticks, my parents whispered wishes for luck and harmony in the coming year, while I just stood on tiptoe, expecting the upcoming Chinese New Year: night sky filled with exploding fireworks, family feasts that seemed endless, and the pure joy of celebration. It was the best time of the year.
As childhood gave way to adolescence, Beijing East Road became my daily path to my middle and high school, Nanjing Foreign Language School. It was really hard to take a breath under the burden of China’s intensely competitive education system. When textbooks and test scores, I would seek refuge along the historical Ming dynasty city walls. Standing atop the walls and gazing out over the shimmer of Xuanwu Lake – once the private royal garden – I found peace in its vast and steady water. These quiet moments became my daily meditation, offering me comfort and the confidence to move on.
Nevertheless, as I traced down Ming dynasty city walls, I noticed that the bricks had been weathered and damaged by the passage of time. The walls, once seamlessly connected to encircle the inner city, now stood with quiet gaps between them. These silent witnesses to centuries of change encouraged me to wonder: how could we preserve these precious ancient legacies while building a sustainable future for not only the walls but other historical architecture worldwide? This idea planted the seeds of my passion for urban studies and planning, eventually leading me here at Cornell.
During this winter break, I went back to Nanjing. This time, I was driving down Beijing East Road with my best friend at Cornell in the front seat. Through the windshield, I saw groups of students in familiar school uniforms, the very ones I used to wear, tracing the same paths my younger self had walked countless times before. The scene felt like watching my own memories play out in real-time, yet with new actors taking center stage. Though our paths crossed with different people and our stories in this city bloomed in different ways, our hearts beat with the same love for Nanjing, a love that runs as deep as its history.
Starting from my first breath, Nanjing has shaped not only who I am, but who I aspire to become. Although my journey has taken me far from these streets and corners that stored my memories, I carry Nanjing within me like a compass pointing home, guiding me toward the unknown future.
I miss my hometown.
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